


Starring Role

by KrisStylinson



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Actors, Bottom Louis, M/M, Nipple Play, Post-High School, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-12 03:24:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11728485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KrisStylinson/pseuds/KrisStylinson
Summary: Whilst everyone bustles about, Harry sits and scans the crowd in hopes that some version of a Prince Charming will burst through the doors and inform Harry that he’s his coveted on-screen boyfriend. Maybe he’ll be taller than him. Or smaller, Harry is fine either way. Just not a size difference that will make the kissing scenes awkward. Or maybe it’ll be one of the guys Harry saw the day of his own audition. Quite a few of them were fairly attractive—not that Harry’s shallow about that type of thing, but. He won’t complain if they give him a handsome man to do nude scenes with.His fantasizing gets cut short when in walks Louis Tomlinson.Louis Tomlinson is an undeniably talented and highly revered actor to anyone who knows anything about film, Harry definitely included. But before that, he was Harry’s all-consuming love of a lifetime.





	Starring Role

**Author's Note:**

> i didn't expect to finish this but i did and here we areee
> 
> title from [starring role](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zjeYwn4xZ4U) by marina and the diamonds

 

Harry had dreamt of showing up to his high school reunion to brag about his success as an actor ever since the first time he had been bullied for showing up wearing his sister’s fingernail polish during freshman year. Dreamt. As in a dream. An aspiration, even.

 

Looking at the script in his lap for a movie already being hyped as the film of the year before filming even _began_ , Harry still can’t believe it actually fucking happened.

 

He’s proper famous now. He has a manager, a stylist, a makeup artist—an entire team of people there for him and him alone. A couple million followers on all of his social media. Five or six successful films under his belt, and he’s only twenty-seven. Usually he’s much too humble to speak about his career in such a way, but he would gladly make an exception if it meant rubbing it in the faces of the people who used to belittle him for taking whatever part he could in every school production the drama club produced.

 

But however badly he wants to boast, when his manager informs him that filming begins the same day as his reunion was supposed to take place, he decides it’s okay. Because he’s sure he can pass word that he can’t show due to work commitments, a.k.a. a fucking movie with some of Hollywood’s biggest names, to one of his old school buddies that will probably slip in the fact in conversation throughout the night.

 

God, he feels like such an asshole. It’s probably for the best that he can’t show up himself.

 

He still makes sure to send Niall the text.

 

~~~

 

The first day of filming is typically pretty hectic, with the people who have yet to meet each other making introductions, stylists making sure the outfits fit impeccably, makeup artists working quickly to make sure each actor has the right look. This means Harry’s usually making small talk for a good few hours before the director finally tells him they’re rolling.

 

Today, though, is going to be different. Because he’s yet to meet the entire cast, including the person playing the other lead, which is also his love interest. He’s already sure it’s another man considering he did read the script, but what man is a total mystery. He just hopes it isn’t someone who will pull a no-homo on him after every romantic scene. Somehow men in Hollywood who accept the roles of a non-straight character still do that to him.

 

He’s anxious now, is the thing. If he gets another guy who assumes that since Harry is gay and they’ll be kissing that Harry is inevitably going to fall madly in love with him, he might rip out his own hair on set.

 

Whilst everyone bustles about, Harry sits and scans the crowd in hopes that some version of a Prince Charming will burst through the doors and inform Harry that he’s his coveted on-screen boyfriend. Maybe he’ll be taller than him. Or smaller, Harry is fine either way. Just not a size difference that will make the kissing scenes awkward. Or maybe it’ll be one of the guys Harry saw the day of his own audition. Quite a few of them were fairly attractive—not that Harry’s shallow about that type of thing, but. He won’t complain if they give him a handsome man to do nude scenes with.

 

His fantasizing gets cut short when in walks Louis Tomlinson.

 

Louis Tomlinson, an actor whose work has sent simultaneous waves of jealousy and attraction through Harry’s body since he was six-fucking-teen.

 

Louis was—well. He’s an undeniably talented and highly revered actor to anyone who knows anything about film, Harry definitely included. But before that, he was Harry’s all-consuming love of a lifetime as his teenage self would’ve put it, which he would become more and more enamored with every time he saw him in their after-school drama club meetings.

 

And he’s here now. On set of a movie. A movie that Harry is in.

 

He’s scrambling in his head for anything to say to him—something witty or charming, preferably, but anything that isn’t embarrassing will do—when Louis seems to catch his eye, a flash of recognition showing on his face as he makes his way over.

 

Shit, shit, shit. Now Harry’s staring, and his mind is kind of blanking because it’s been at least ten years since he’s seen Louis in the flesh and he’s just as beautiful as ever, Christ.

 

“Harry Styles,” Louis says smoothly, voice just as soft and pleasant as Harry remembers. “It’s been a while.”

 

So Louis definitely remembers him, too. That’s good, right?

 

“Too long,” Harry responds, because he’s pretty sure that’s typically what people say to those types of things. “I didn’t know you were going to be here.”

 

“They didn’t tell you?” Louis asks, a smug look overcoming his features. A smirk becomes him. “I’m your co-star.”

 

Oh my God. Oh my God.

 

Harry’s going to pass out.

 

“They didn’t,” he mumbles, trying to keep from staring at Louis’ lips for too long. He’s an actor for Christ’s sake, and he’s pretty sure he’s doing the lousiest job of hiding his feelings right now. His brain is in overdrive and his heart is literally pounding over someone he thought he got over ages ago when he didn’t see him for a solid two years. His sixteen-year-old self is still preening. “So we’re—uh, I guess we’ll see a lot of each other, then.”

 

He’s suddenly very aware of his own body and curses himself for always wearing tight fucking pants, because right now he feels like he could suffocate with the way Louis is looking at him.

 

“We will,” he says softly, smile as present as it’s been the whole conversation. “It’ll feel just like high school again, yeah? Except we’ll curse more and get paid.”

 

God, Louis has no clue how much Harry feels like he’s regressed back into his high-school self.

 

“Yeah, well,” Harry nods, trying to smile without looking too creepy. “I’m sure working with you will be a pleasure.”

 

“I’ll make sure it is,” he promises, then adds on with a grin, “I look forward to working with you, too, Harry Styles.”

 

Harry tries not to collapse on his way to the bathroom.

 

~~~

 

Louis is kind of distracting to work with.

 

Harry is used to being surrounded by pretty people while delivering his lines, but there’s not a person in the world that compares to how Louis looks when he’s focused and Harry is doing his best not to be creepy about it. Thankfully, his character is very much in love with Louis’ and thus his endless staring and entranced smiles can simply be passed off as superb acting.

 

It’s not just that that gets to him, though—Louis treats him like it hasn’t been ten years since they saw each other. When the director calls cut, Louis is in his space and sparking up easy conversation. It’s helped in the respect that Harry no longer has a heart attack every time he sees him, but it’s only making him remember more and more about why he had such a big crush on Louis to begin with. Somehow, all of his greatest qualities matured as beautifully as the rest of him and Harry is—well, he’s positively smitten.

 

Even worse, Harry seems to be able to fool himself into thinking Louis is flirting with him. Maybe it’s because every little thing he does automatically sends butterflies to his stomach, or maybe it’s something to do with the way Louis lingers around him and laughs at every terrible joke Harry makes when he starts to get nervous, or maybe it’s how he caught Louis staring at his lips once or twice when the cameras were out of sight.

 

It’s possible it’s all in his head, but it’s also possible that it isn’t and that’s enough to keep Harry hopeful.

 

He supposes if there were to be a day to put it to the test, it would be today.

 

They’ve only been filming for a couple of weeks now, and the most they’ve had to do is passionately kiss after their character’s big argument. Today, though. Today is a sex scene.

 

He hadn’t asked for specifics ahead of time because going nude wasn’t something Harry had ever been uncomfortable with so he didn’t much care whether they meant full frontal or a simple flash of bum—of course, that was before he knew he’d be filming with Louis. Now he regrets not grilling the director for every last detail.

 

It’s embarrassing. He’s nearly thirty years old, far from a virgin, far from a teenager, and yet Louis is capable of reducing him back to both of those things with one tiny glance.

 

But. He has two jobs to do—his actual job that gives him a paycheck, and conquering the task of figuring out whether Louis really is interested in him or not. He only hopes he doesn’t go home disappointed.

 

“So, Styles,” Louis greets him, robe tied around his waist so loosely that Harry’s sure one small tug would rip it off. Which. He can’t think about that right now. “You’re looking pretty overdressed for today’s scene.”

 

Harry nods his head and does his best to keep his eyes on Louis from the chest up. When he only takes two glances before gluing his eyes to Louis’ face, he considers himself strong. “I could say the same to you.”

 

Louis rolls his eyes, flinging one of the dangerously loose sides of his robe carelessly. “One tug and I’m naked,” he informs him, giving Harry a million and one visual images of just that happening. “You, on the other hand, still have to pry your jeans off of those legs.”

 

Harry pats his thighs, rubbing the material of his pants with a half-smile on his face. “I like my pants.”

 

“As does everyone else,” Louis agrees. “But they’ve got to go.”

 

Harry grabs his belt and begins unbuckling it, pulls it through only one of the loops before Louis slaps his hand away. “Stop! Save the reveal for the cameras.”

 

“Ow,” Harry frowns. “I was just gonna tell you to show me yours and I’ll show you mine.”

 

Louis chuckles quietly. “No. It’s our characters’ first time seeing each other naked, so it can be ours, too. If we’re lucky, we’ll get it right on the first take and that scene can be genuine.” He pinches the skin on Harry’s arm. “Or don’t you want your best acting on the big screen?”

 

Harry hums, putting his belt back through its loop to keep it from dangling but making no move to buckle it again. “I get it. You’re nervous to see me naked. I’ll wait.”

 

“You’re just pretty enough to get away with that.” He focuses on something behind Harry, and when Harry turns around himself to see what it is, he finds one of the makeup artists waving Louis over. “I’ve got to go for my grooming. See a lot more of you soon.”

 

When he walks away, Harry can’t help but watch the way his robe waves through the air hopefully.

 

He’s sent to his dressing room a second later with instructions to strip down and throw on a robe of his own, further cementing the fact that there’s no nude underwear to be put on and that he will, in fact, be seeing a completely naked Louis Tomlinson today. It takes Harry much longer than usual to get undressed—so long that some of the crew knock on his door and ask if he’s having second thoughts about doing a love scene without any sort of protective layers between them. He can’t very well explain to them that that’s a problem only because he and Louis will be surrounded by cameras with no intentions of doing anything about their inherent nudity.

 

In the end, he forces himself out the door without thinking much about it lest he turn right back around. He smiles at every staff member he sees in hopes that it halts their worrying until he finally makes it to set.

 

The director is already beside Louis on his character’s bed, giving him instructions on how to spread himself out without showing too much, keep the scene on the tamer side until it’s time for their big glorious love-making.

 

As is, Harry can see the entire left side of his body, and it’s the most beautiful left side of someone’s body he’s ever seen.

 

When Louis catches sight of him, he blows him a dramatic kiss which finally brings Harry to the director’s attention.

 

“Harry!” she says excitedly. “Finally. Come, let me position you.”

 

He lands behind Louis on the bed within the minute. Louis smiles warmly at him, unable to fully turn around since they haven’t started rolling yet. Harry’s grin only widens when the director directs his hand to Louis’ bare hip and requests that he rest his face mere inches from Louis.

 

“Hey,” Harry mumbles. “Comfy?”

 

Louis smiles, seemingly at ease with their position—as he should be, Harry thinks. “Yeah. Kinda drafty.”

 

Harry hums. “I quite enjoy the nudity.”

 

“I figured,” Louis admits, donning a mischievous smile. “I’ve heard the rumors.”

 

Harry frowns. “Rumors?”

 

Louis shrugs as much as he can without ruining their position or knocking into Harry’s head. “Nothing major. Just that you refuse to accept a role unless you’re given the right to a nude scene.”

 

Harry can’t help but laugh at that, mouth twitched up with his dimples in full force. “I am a proper diva.”

 

“It has to be true.” Louis scoffs. “What superhero movie _needs_ a shower scene?”

 

“That one was in the script before I even auditioned,” Harry argues. And then, once it clicks in his mind, continues, “I thought we weren’t going to see each other naked until we shot this scene, hmm?”

 

A blank look plasters Louis’ face, but then he shakes his head. “So maybe I lied a tiny bit. Not my fault that you’ve shown yourself in all your naked glory to everyone and their mother.”

 

But Harry isn’t at all mad, because this means one absolute thing that’s making him giddy and prideful and nervous all at once. “You watch my stuff.”

 

Louis’ face softens into a smile, the easiest, “Of course I do, Harry Styles,” falling from his lips. Harry wants to kiss him very, very badly, and he’s not sure if he can wait.

 

Sadly, the director calls action before he can manage it.

 

There’s some dialogue before things start to go any further than lying naked beside each other in bed. Watching Louis’ lips move as he delivers line after line, Harry’s mind is blanking on what he’s supposed to say himself. The only way he remembers to open his own mouth is when he notices Louis has stopped talking. Somehow, he manages not to fuck up his lines in any way that would muddle the meaning.

 

It takes him by surprise when Louis finally hooks a leg over his hips and straddles him, though it shouldn’t considering the lady waving off-camera signaling him to. With Louis’ effortless acting, it’s easy for Harry to fool himself into thinking it’s genuine when he tells Harry he wants to have him in every way humanly possible and beyond.

 

When Harry responds, “I’m yours,” he hopes Louis takes him up on the unspoken offer.

 

And then Louis is leaning down with his pink lips turned up into a soft smile, and Harry’s finally kissing Louis Tomlinson ten years too late.

 

Harry’s only problem is the fact that they’re not in _his_ bed at _his_ house with no camera and crew surrounding them. But, for what it is—he’s kissing Louis, and that’s more than he ever expected.

 

He’s vaguely aware of someone signaling him just as they had Louis, but he ignores them in favor of doing what his mind is screaming at him to do. His hands slide down the curve of Louis’ back, one settling there while the other reaches for a handful of bum. There’s a moment when Louis lets out a squeak that Harry worries he’s ruined the scene by going off direction, but then a quiet, content sound quickly follows as Louis kisses him deeper and deeper and—

 

“Cut!”

 

Louis jumps back in a second, mouth pleasantly red and slick, eyes beautifully glossy. He’s breathing a little harder than usual; considering Harry’s directly underneath him with both of his hands on either side of his head, it makes it quite obvious. “You’re a really good kisser,” he mumbles.

 

“You, too,” Harry replies without missing a beat. “Like, if there was a way to rank kissing techniques, you would land number one every time without breaking a sweat.”

 

A soft laugh becomes music to Harry’s ears. “Thank you, Harry.”

 

“That was wonderful, boys!” the director compliments, clapping her hands joyfully as she makes her way to the two of them, a stylist carrying two robes following close behind. “Such a beautiful chemistry between the two you—I’m so glad I got your first movie together. Critics are going to _love_ this. Even the cranky, uppity ones.”

 

“Thanks,” Harry mumbles, waiting for Louis to crawl off his lap before getting up and accepting his own robe. Once it’s tied securely enough around his waist, he gives her a gracious smile. Louis parrots the sentiment, to which the director tosses a few more loaded words their way before flitting back to view the footage.

 

And then they’re alone—or, as alone as you could get on a movie set—only minutes after having just had their hands and mouths all over each other.

 

Harry never pictured this situation being so awkward.

 

“So.” He clears his throat once, twice. “She sounded pretty sure of another movie together in our future.”

 

Louis chews his lower lip for a few seconds before answering, “Yeah. We could discuss that back at my place.”

 

Every other awkward word is ripped from Harry’s train of thought, as he splutters out, “What?”

 

Louis tilts his head. “You know, talk about our creative futures. What directions we wanna take our acting careers. Or something.”

 

“Oh.” Harry nods, disguising his disappointment with a smile. “Sounds good.”

 

A grin. “I’ll wait for you.”

 

With a nod, Harry makes his way back to his dressing room to clothe himself once again. He can go back to Louis’ and… talk about their future. Their jobs’ futures. That’s fine. He’s fine.

 

Even with the little bit of disappointment plaguing his thoughts, he can’t deny that he’s excited to get inside of Louis fucking Tomlinson’s house, so he makes sure to be dressed and ready as soon as possible.

 

When he gets to the door, Louis is back in his casual wear—a t-shirt and sweats—yet still looking as breathtaking as usual. He looks up when he hears Harry’s footsteps and smiles with his eyes, giving Harry a once-over and nodding toward the door. “Car’s waiting. We’ve got the back to ourselves.”

 

Nodding his acknowledgement, Harry makes his way to the black Escalade and lets Louis climb in before joining him himself.

 

He barely has the time to shut his door before Louis is kissing him.

 

Again. Except there are no cameras and no directors and no— _anything_ , just Harry and Louis. Alone.

 

He’s so shocked that he flings himself backward into the door with a thump.

 

Louis, perched deliciously on one hand with his back curved so he can lean into Harry’s space, frowns. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry. I thought—that was a bad idea.”

 

Harry pants. “What was that?”

 

“Stupid, is what it was,” he says exasperatedly, finally sitting back in his seat with a sigh. “I’m sorry, Harry. Really. I thought you were, like. On board with that. Which I shouldn’t have assumed—”

 

“I didn’t say I wasn’t on board with it.” Harry shakes his head. “It was just—unexpected.”

 

“Unexpected?” Louis huffs. “I just very blatantly threw myself at you. I _asked you back to my place._ ”

 

Again, Harry shakes his head. “You asked me to come over and discuss career stuff.”

 

Louis glances at Harry’s lips then licks his own. “You think that’s what was really on my mind after shooting a scene like that?”

 

Harry recounts it in his head. He himself is most definitely still thinking about a naked Louis on top of him, the way his body felt in his hands. He just didn’t think Louis would be as affected by the situation, but—“You were flirting?”

 

 Louis laughs. “Very much so.”

 

“ _God_.” He bites his lip slowly, hopes it gives it a nice, appealing pink tint before muttering, “You can kiss me again now. If you want.”

 

A grin, quickly followed by an, “I want,” and Harry’s kissing Louis for the third time that day. What _even_.

 

He wasn’t exaggerating when he said Louis was a good kisser. He knows how much pressure to give, when to let up, when to let Harry have his control of the moment and when to take over himself. His lips slot perfectly between Harry’s own, his tongue flicking against Harry’s lower lip every now and again. Harry can’t help but give as good as he’s getting; he bites Louis’ lip just enough to have him make a pleased noise.

 

“You were holding back in there,” Louis comments offhandedly, rubbing over his bottom lip to soothe it. “I probably would’ve made a fool of myself if you pulled that in front of the cameras.”

 

Harry can’t deny that the words stroke his ego. “How much longer ‘til your place?”

 

“It’s close. Five minutes, tops.”

 

He gives Louis a soft smirk before pulling him back in with a hand on his neck.

 

They kiss and kiss until they’re panting from the lack of breath. Harry can’t even pretend to regret it, especially when it rewards him with the sight of messy-haired and swollen-lipped Louis Tomlinson. They’re kissing when the car comes to a stop, barely have the will to pull apart when the driver knocks to catch their attention.

 

“We’re here,” they hear, the sound muffled through the partition, but it’s enough to have Louis grabbing Harry by the hand and pulling him out the door.

 

“Thanks,” Louis mumbles to the man in the front, who looks only a little bit uncomfortable when he nods.

 

They’re walking away before the car has time to pull out, Louis mumbling, “That was so fucking awkward,” once they get to his door.

 

Harry watches him fumble for a house key with a smile on his own face. “Worth it.”

 

Louis looks up with a grin as he twists the door knob and lets them in.

 

The place is a little messy, but a lived-in messy, a comfortable messy. He wants to get the full tour of Louis Tomlinson’s house, but that’s the only assessment he has the time make before he’s being dragged through the place much quicker than necessary by Louis’ dainty hands. He can’t complain, not when he understands the reason behind Louis’ urgency.

 

“When I first heard your name on TV,” Louis begins, hands fumbling with the button on Harry’s jeans, “I thought, there’s no way that’s the quiet little pretty boy from school. And yet.” He pauses to let out a laugh. “First I hear of you in years, and all I can focus on is your dick.”

 

Harry groans, wondering how his afore mentioned dick isn’t breaking open the zip of his pants before Louis has the chance to take them off. “Really?”

 

Louis hums. “To be fair, it is a fantastic penis.”

 

Harry tilts the corner of his lips into a smile. “Yeah, well I hear the camera subtracts two inches.”

 

The contrast of Louis’ laugh to the rough work of his fingertips on Harry’s pants is a beautiful one. “Let’s get a better look then.”

 

Harry lets out a grunt as his pants are finally, _finally_ peeled down his thighs. He takes over and gets them the rest of the way off, and when he looks up, Louis is half-naked himself. He makes quick work of the rest of his own clothes; soon enough, he and Louis are stark naked in front of each other for the second time that day. His brain is in overdrive.

 

He stumbles to the bed and lands on his back, not given a second to recover before Louis is climbing on top of him. It’s too wonderful of a sight for Harry to complain, even when he feels a knee hit him right between the legs.

 

“Fuck,” Louis mumbles, suddenly shifting so both of his thighs rest on either side of Harry’s body. “You’re making me regress back into a nervous virgin.”

 

And that’s. Clearly Louis is apologizing for kneeing him in the crotch, but Harry can barely focus on that. “I make you nervous?”

 

Louis huffs and leans forward to grab at something—lube, maybe—and it leaves Louis’ perfect chest eye level with Harry. So, he does what _anyone_ would do in such a situation and latches his lips onto a perky, pink nipple.

 

“Shit,” he hears, then feels Louis collapse even further onto him. With him so close, he can feel the heavy panting of Louis’ chest; he smirks and pinches his other nipple between his thumb and index finger.

 

He keeps up his ministrations for another minute until he hears what sounds like Louis _whimpering_. He pulls his mouth away from his supple body and replaces his lips with his other hand. “Give me the lube,” he mutters firmly.

 

For a moment, Louis doesn’t move, and Harry chalks it up to the effect he’s having on him with a self-satisfied smile. After a few more seconds, though, a bottle comes to rest beside his head. “Thank you.”

 

There’s a breathy sound that Harry counts as a response. He tries really hard not to look obnoxious in his pride, but he’s got such a beautiful boy reduced to the inability to form words and he’s pretty fucking stoked.

 

He doesn’t waste any time in covering his fingers in lube, spends the time he doesn’t have anything inside of Louis praising his body. He manages to suck a dark, purple bruise into the center of Louis’ chest that has the boy moaning and squirming for the entire time it takes to get a finger in him—then, his movements only amplify.

 

He stops only when he needs to come up for air, the spit-slick bruise stroking his ego more than it should. He keeps his eyes trained on Louis’ body, trailing from his chest to the dip of his collarbones, his unfortunately unmarked neck to the pink swell of his lips. Finally, he meets him eye-to-eye, and it’s arguably the best part—glassy with his pupils blown in arousal, slipping closed in pleasure every time Harry’s fingers hit at the right angle.

 

“You’re fucking _erotic,_ ” he confesses, sneaking in a second finger as the words fall from his mouth. He takes a moment to quicken his pace, scissoring his fingers determinedly.

 

Louis pants for a gulp of breath good enough to speak. “Maybe because you’ve got your fuck— _oh_ , God—fucking fingers in me.”

 

He manages to guide in a third finger once he’s sure the minute stretch won’t hurt Louis, crooking them up until Louis moans louder than before. “I wish I could take credit for what I’m seeing right now,” he admits, pumping his fingers faster and rolling a nipple between his clean fingers just to keep Louis from trying to argue on it.

 

He keeps it up long enough for Louis to drop it; once it stops and Louis regains his ability to speak, he whimpers out a needy, “Fuck me,” that has Harry’s fucking _body_ buckling.

 

“God,” he grunts, scrambling for the lube and coating up the length of his cock, trying his very hardest not to come at the touch, the words _fuck me_ replaying over and over in his head. Louis’ nimble fingers stroke through his hair, mumbling a soft yet firm, “Hurry.”

 

He gives in and spreads the lube quickly just to get it over with. Once he’s suitably covered, he wastes no time in pressing the head to Louis’ hole.

 

He’s _tight_. So fucking tight around Harry’s cock and he can’t help but let out an embarrassing moan at the feeling. Slowly, he slides a few more inches in. Louis is breathing hard enough that Harry can literally _hear_ every intake and it’s—it’s a lot.

 

So very unbearably gently, he moves until he’s completely sheathed inside of Louis. He lets out a shaky breath of his own once it’s done, letting his index and middle finger come up to rub feather-light touches into the head of Louis’ dripping cock.

 

There’s a glorious type of whine that Louis lets out that turns quickly into a string of the sexiest sounds Harry’s ever heard. Encouraged, Harry keeps it up just as softly as before, completely enthralled at the sight of more and more precome dribbling from the tip of Louis’ cock.

 

But it’s still not satisfactory, not when Harry knows he could have this pretty boy feeling even better. “Touch your nipples for me, yeah? Like you want to.”

 

For a moment, Harry thinks he’s going to spite him, but it vanishes as quickly as it appeared and then there’s both of his dainty hands coming to pinch at his own perky, pink nipples.

 

“Yeah,” he mutters, hips pulling back and driving back in _hard_. Louis rolls his own hips back at the action with a pornographic type of moan. “That’s it, so good. Fuck.”

 

He thrusts again, and again, and again until his cock feels _sensitive_ from how close he is. Somewhere in the middle of it all, he stopped touching Louis’ cock so he can press his body on top of him. He places his own hands on top of Louis’ and forces him to pinch at his nipples harder than he had been before, causing Louis to whimper pitifully into his neck. Smirking, Harry lands a nip to his earlobe that trails down to his jaw. He noses along the bits of stubble with a pleased groan and pumps his hips in roughly.

 

“Harry,” he hears, Louis’ voice broken almost beyond recognition. “Harry, I’m so close.”

 

He plants both of his hands on either side of Louis’ head, biting harshly at the side of his neck. “You’re gonna come on my cock, yeah? Nice and easy for me.”

 

Two thrusts punctuate the sentence, both of which bring Harry that much closer to the edge. He wants, _needs_ to come but he can’t—not until Louis has.

 

Sucking in a deep breath, he pushes himself up enough to fuck into Louis quick and purposefully, groaning when he can feel Louis beginning to clench up around him. “Come on, Louis, know you want to come. Wanna see you do it.”

 

The combination of his words plus the cock pumping into him must do it for him—Louis’ entire body seizes up and he come between the two of them. Harry groans at the sight, trying to pull out before he busts himself but Louis’ arms come to wrap around his neck and pull him flat against his body. Harry can’t stop his orgasm at that point, the feeling being ripped from his body as he moves his hips in tiny circles.

 

He pants for a second before he feels Louis’ lips on his cheek; he turns his head enough that their mouths connect instead and welcomes it when Louis licks into his mouth. He can feel Louis’ come beginning to harden up on his skin but he really can’t find it in him to care, will gladly let his skin feel crusty and gross if it means he gets to keep kissing Louis.

 

Eventually, like all humans, they have to stop to breathe. They end up staring directly at each other’s faces, silent. Staring at him, he’s suddenly completely forgetful of the fact that they’re both famous in their own rights and gets reminded of the eighteen-year old version of Louis whose eyes looked just as bright as they do now.

 

“I had such a thing for you in high school,” he offers honestly, brushing his thumb over Louis’ lower lip. “My sixteen-year-old self would lose it if he saw me now.”

 

Louis hums. “Can’t believe you’re telling me that when you still have your dick in me.” Petulantly, Harry shifts so his cock moves to which Louis pinches his arm. “It’s a shame I didn’t know sooner. Always thought you were cute, even when I had to call you Curly in my head because you couldn’t be bothered to give me your name.”

 

Harry scoffs. “Are you kidding me?”

 

“Absolutely not,” Louis replies. “While we’re being honest, you should know I asked the directors not to let you know I was going to be your co-star. Had this big idea that I would surprise you by showing up on set, maybe woo you a bit and see where it went.” He pauses to laugh. “This works, too.”

 

As much as Harry can’t believe it, he’s also just sex-hazy enough not to question it. “I was definitely surprised. Sexually frustrated, too.”

 

Louis laughs again, turning so he’s on his side, close enough that their noses touch. “You can always spend the night if you wanna cure that.”

 

Harry lets out a chuckle of his own, scooting forward and resting a hand on Louis’ bare hip. “I’m never gonna leave if you don’t make me.”

 

Louis kisses the corner of his mouth. “Don’t count on that happening, Harry Styles.”

 

Harry is more than happy not to.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! as always, i hope you enjoyed ♡
> 
> tumblr: [zourry](http://zourry.tumblr.com)


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